Eight ways to say
by kimmiesjoy
Summary: "I love you." A set of eight semi-interconnected one shots set at the end of season four and into season five.
1. Chapter 1

**Based on a prompt from LoveJessieLou and an article called 'Eight ways to say I Love You.'**

**A/N: For Jessie, thank you for trusting me with your ideas, for tricking me into writing this, for late nights and early mornings, for sending me things just to mess with my emotional feels. For being my friend.**

* * *

"I love you." She sobs the words into the phone, tears streaming down her face and wet hair plastered to her cheeks. She stumbles from her bedroom, wrapped in the towel, her skin damp from the shower.

She moves towards the couch, her feet numb and she can feel nothing of her body. Just the ache in her chest, the pain.

Something opens, unleashes and she has no control over it, the panic rising, the hurt burning, the shame of it all... too much...too much.

Fire through ice that refuses to melt, does not waver or give.

But _she _ cracks.

"I...today we almost..._you_ almost...died...again." Her chest heaves with breath that burns its way free of her body.

Kate misses the couch and slumps to the floor, the phone clenched in one hand, the glass in the other. Sloppy movements that send the amber liquid splashing to the wood beneath her and she doesn't care. She slips, feet sliding through the alcohol, landing heavily and it _burns_.

Everything licked by vicious flame, the anger and the shame, the near loss, the agony of watching, waiting, knowing. She believed he was dead and it hurts.

It_ burns_.

The feelings mould and melt together, merge and conspire. They work against her.

They gnaw at her empty stomach.

Ravenous beasts unleashed from her mind with teeth and claws that tear at her skin. Her lungs still aching from her near drowning and yet they rip the tender flesh and each sob leaves her more painfully than the one before.

She can't catch her breath and she sobs his name into the phone, pleading and pathetic, desperate and alone.

She claws at her chest, rips the towel loose, pulls the one from her head and in the darkness of her home she fights to breathe, to slow her raging pulse and calm the panic.

Calm her heart.

But it breaks all over again.

And the sensation doesn't stop, the feelings continue to bombard her and decimate what little armour she had salvaged...These feral things blister and belittle her broken heart, ripping it into ragged shreds. They burn her resolve and faith asunder, set light to her belief and dance in the ashes.

"I love...I'm...so...sorry."

How many near misses does she have to have? How many nights must she spend alone and broken before she goes to him and bares her soul?

Streaks of lightning memory illuminate the darkness of her muddled mind, bright white brilliance shatters the fog behind her pupils, the burn of alcohol still raw and it hurts as she remembers.

She fights it all, every flash of consciousness, every emotion that rises and swells, every tear that streaks it way down her face, she fights it all, because it hurts. It punishes, she takes it all, she fights and she hates it.

Her car plunged off the bridge and into the murky depths of the water. The terror of a loss she can't bring herself to comprehend surges up over her. She battles to ignore the way her hands feel now, still empty, the way they were as they reached through the cold water, and she tried so desperately to find him.

Kate stares down at her hands, still empty.

Like her.

Still empty.

Still not whole, still broken, still working to be better. For him, for herself.

She wants to be whole so that days like today, days when the world almost ends and they come so close to losing, when too many questions are left unanswered, they can be _together_, she can be with him.

She's not there yet, cannot give him what he needs, cannot be who she deserves. "I'm sorry." She sobs, for him, for her, for them.

They should be able to do this together and she wants that so much.

"So much."

She whispers into his voicemail.

"I love you.

She gives him the only thing she can, the only thing she clings to as she downs the last few drops of liquid in her glass and tosses it haphazardly.

It shatters, like she does, and she no longer cares.

The words spill free like liquid, running loose and untamed, rapids through the river of her heart. The stream of affection, passion, adoration, unstoppered.

"I love you."

Free.

"I love you."

His phone is in pieces, drenched through at the bottom of the river and he will never hear it.

"I love you."

Another sob, more painful and more real than the ones before wracks her chest and she lets it break her. The almost loss of him tearing her apart, what they could be and almost missed out on before ever having, swamping her.

She almost drowned.

He saved her.

But for a few seconds he was gone.

Gone.

And Sophia with her manipulations, her threats, her gun to his head.

The shot rings through Kate's mind again, followed by a whimper that ripples inside her chest.

And she thought he was _dead_.

The fear of it splinters through her chest again.

She squeezes the phone tight in her fingers, pressing at her eyes with the heel of her hand and her mind blurs. The alcohol covers nothing, hides nothing, helps _nothing_ and the ridiculously agonizing intense ache remains.

"I...want..." The words catch and slur, she wishes she could gulp down more of the amber liquid "Want you. To tell you... I love you. Castle, I love you." She pulls her knees to her chest and shivers, wrapping her arms around herself, wishing the touch was his. But it's not and that is all her fault.

"I'm so sorry."

She gives up the words, absorbing _none_ of their absolution. She doesn't deserve it yet. Not until she's ready to say them, each and every single one of them, to his face.

But right now, with the pain and the ache still too vivid, too bright and sharp, too _real_, she has to get them out.

Even if they fall into the emptiness of the dead line at the other end of her phone. Even if they float out there, somewhere, recorded and retrievable, for now, she has to tell him the only way she can.

"I love you, Castle."

* * *

**1. Spit it into his voicemail, a little slurred and sounding like the shot of whiskey you downed for courage...**


	2. Chapter 2

Kate worries her lip to death, expecting it to come up casually and she waits, half terrified of what it will mean, half desperate to have everything out in the open. _Finally_.

The realization that it won't takes her by surprise. She almost forgets that they don't do that, the open conversation, not unless someone's dying or they are _screaming_ at each other.

Nothing will be said outright or face to face, but she clings to the hope that it will come up. Maybe some play on words or subtext fueled implication, maybe just a nod and a significant glance, a waggle of eyebrows and the press of his palm at her back when he helps her on with her coat and ...

She waits for something, _anything_ that indicates he heard her.

He gets his phone back, wet and broken, little pieces of metal in a bag and he makes a joke about puzzles for the tech savvy generation, suggests a late night together putting the pieces back together.

He means the broken parts of the phone, but she pictures her heart and his and the mishmash of possibility. An utter fool she lets the silence linger too long and before she can agree he's deciding on which upgrade he wants instead and the words on the tip of her tongue get bitten back once again.

He loses it within a week and replaces it again. Each and every time a new box arrives his giddy expectations draw her in and she wonders if today he will hear the message. Every time she expects something, anything.

_Nothing._

It takes deaths unsubtle shove to send her free falling and in the darkness it's his voice that guides her.

He takes her to safety in her mind, he holds her steady and gives her strength to hang on.

Then later the pouring rain Castle takes her hand and leads her to the swings. He reminds her in the cleansing downpour that she wanted to work at being them. She wanted... w_ants_ that now.

She wants _him_.

She decides before she knocks to never ask if he heard the message. It hardly matters anymore.

* * *

"I just..." _Love you..._ "want you."

* * *

She bites at the air so very close to his mouth, but she can't..._can't_ take that last little step without knowing. She can't kiss him again before she has some sign...

God she wants to kiss him again and again and never stop, never come up for air.

She could bathe in his kiss and his touch, she could drown in this feeling that surges inside her, igniting everywhere they touch.

His eyes are so dark, so closed off, like the light within has been lost or extinguished. She did that, she broke his gentle heart when he laid himself bare and wanting at her feet. She turned from him when he offered her nothing but himself.

Everything,_ everything_.

The air, barely a breath between their parted lips, hums with electricity and now she needs to know if he can forgive her.

If he can still love her, let her finally, _finally _love him.

Kate touches his lips but before she can get the words out, actually say them -God, she _wants _ to say them- he's driving her backwards. His body tense, rigid. Coiled muscles and fevered skin skimming her own, all soft restraint and confused wonder _gone_.

In the blink of an eye, a heartbeat, a breath. In the time it takes for the words to leave her mouth and take route in his mind... _"I Just want you."_ Gone!

His hands at her waist lift her a fraction and his leg slides between her thighs, thumbs pressing at her pelvis as she slithers, wet from the rain and his touch, and thank god he's not being tentative.

He comes at her.

No holding back.

Comes for her and yes _this_ is what she wants, how she wants him.

How she _loves_ him. Take no prisoners, all or nothing.

She's in.

His hand at her neck holds her trapped, his thumbs dragging thickly, possessively across her jaw as he claims her, brands her, marks her for eternity without knowing she's already seared down to her very soul with love for _him_.

She's his. And he will be hers. She will tell him.

Her lips part drawing in breath, and him.

Castle.

With his eyes closed and his mouth, exploring, imploring, _commanding_. He kisses, touches her lips and savors the flavor of her mouth opened beneath his own. The flesh of his lips part around the edge of her kiss, moving over her chin, the side of her face.

His thumb sweeps her jaw.

He licks, taking the beaded roll of moisture at her cheek, chasing it with his tongue as she holds fast, her hands roaming his hair, his shoulders, the raw male muscle of his back.

She clings and he bites her neck, soft, testing, tasting the rain on her skin and the fire in her touch.

And his mouth...devastatingly beautiful.

She can't think, can't breathe, can't get the words out and she wants to...so so much, they linger on her tongue and she would set them free but she can't.

His invasion is too thorough, too delicious, too perfect.

His mouth tears her apart, something close to a sob aches to break from her chest, happiness and desire and a whole heap of_ thank god_ all mixing through her blood, singing in her veins.

Wet hair meets his fingers and he kisses again and again.

_I love you._

She tries to say it, to get the words into him now she can.

Set them free. Set them _both _ free.

Kate aches to let the words loose but his mouth is on hers again and his hands...his hands are _everywhere_.

His leg moves when he steps closer and she slides down, her weight dropping, her knees like jelly. But he's there, Castle -_Her_ Castle- he's there and he holds her and...

_I love you._

Her tongue moves around the letters and syllables and words, pressing them into his mouth, but they still don't escape, no sound leaves with them, just the heave of her breath. And the movement of her tongue against his own...Oh god. It spurs him on.

_I love you._

Her hands run his back looking for an anchor finding nothing so she just feels. Feels the raw intensity of power rippling through his muscles, feels the quake of his body under her touch, his shoulders broad and lithe and the way he moves, the sounds he makes rich and dark, heated like melted bitter chocolate as he coats her tongue.

His lips drag across her mouth, heavy and hot, suppressing the words.

_I love you._

He bites her neck, absorbs and engulfs, invades and Kate moans, sucking in air she didn't know she was desperately missing, still chasing his retreating kiss.

He won't let her. She moans, touches, her fingers pleading and he still won't let her. His hand falls to her neck again and he kisses, kisses, kisses.

How can she be torn apart and remade by the simple press of his lips?

How can she call it, think it, simple? It's _everything_.

Her shirt opens under his hands and his mouth, his lips skim the lace of her bra and suddenly he stills, finding their scar.

And it is _theirs_. They share in the pain it caused, the devastation it left behind. Kate opens her eyes and finds him frozen, the fresh agony on his face.

Oh god, Castle.

_I love you._

It bleeds from her fingertips with every touch and their eyes meet, forgiveness and apology in the unwritten, unspoken blackness of his pupils. His lips find her skin when he can hold back no longer and he kisses away the last vestiges of pain that linger under that mottled scrap of tissue.

She pulls his hand up and holds it within her own, holds them both over the beat of her heart.

Can he feel it?

I love you.

_I love you._

I just _want _ _you_.

Can he hear it?

She can. It's _deafening_.

Kate smiles and touches his lips when a wave of wonder passes over his face. She kisses it into his skin.

_I love you._

And she pulls back, captures his hand and his heart, their future, all of it in one swoop, all of it at the tips of her fingers.

_I love you._

The first time he breaks her apart, the very first time she shudders under the force of the feel of him and her and them _together_, with their fingers tangled and their lips brushing she sets it free. Pushing the words into his mouth on the tail end of a heated breath.

_"I love you, Castle."_

* * *

**2. Sigh it into his mouth, wedged in between teeth and tongues. Don't even let your lips move when you say it, ever so lightly, into the air. Maybe it was just an exhalation of ecstasy.**


	3. Chapter 3

It seems ridiculous, she _feels_ ridiculous. The butterflies in her stomach have her acting like a teenager and the blush over her cheeks doesn't help at _all_.

Kate coils one knee beneath her, slides into her bed with the phone cradled in her lap and she stares down at it.

She wants to call him, to end the day with his voice but they're not...they haven't...

She hasn't seen him today.

Three weeks into her suspension and he spent the day with his daughter. She called her Dad, shopped, read and like _normal _ adults in a normal_ adult_ relationship they had a day apart.

Only now, _now _ she wants to end the day with his voice and they haven't done that before.

She hasn't called him just to talk, not once, not ever. Not in their four year partnership, not in friendship, only ever in crisis and not once in the three weeks since they've been doing...this.

She wants to call him and her fingers are dialing before her brain has fully caught up, or maybe it's two steps ahead of her rational thought process, either way it's good.

Too late to change her mind.

The phone's ringing.

Good.

The butterflies swoop and she feels so ridiculous, giddy almost, at the prospect of just _hearing _ his voice after one day apart and it must be love, her cheeks flush again in amusement and annoyance.

It must be...it is love.

She still hasn't told him yet.

The love makes her stupid...and intuitive.

Somehow now it means more. It meant everything - the world- before but_ now_ it's a declaration not just a statement of fact, it's a promise and something to be clung to and-

"Beckett?"

Her heart quivers in her chest, stutters in rhythm. Her cheeks burn bright red and brilliantly hot as if he can see her and she grins into her wrist, her entire body coiling around the phone.

"Hi."

"It's after midnight Beckett, is there a body...wait no." He yawns, remembering.

"Did I wake you up?" Suddenly she feels awful, presumptuous.

"No," He hums, "Definitely not asleep yet, brain dead maybe."

"Nothing new there then." She teases, her tongue popping out between her teeth as she holds back the laugh.

"Cut me to the quick, Detective." He moves, shuffles, thuds something and moans in pleasure as he gets comfortable.

A deep _dark _ moan that shoots sparks at the tails of the butterflies, lighting them up like fireflies and amber moths and a million other ridiculously poetic things.

It must be love. Not just_ I want you now _ love, real and achingly _true _ love.

The sort of love that requires more than I love you, more than I'm_ in_ love with you, every little bit of you. Good, bad, crazy, shallow, happy, frustrating, infuriating-

"Kate?"

She jumps, "Sorry."

"You fall asleep?"

"No, just thinking."

"You called me to _think_?" He laughs but all too soon it falls away,. She hears him move, imagines him at his desk, sitting up in concern, "Are you ok? Did something..." He inhales sharply, painfully, "Bracken?"

Her eyes close, she didn't mean..."No, no nothing...I just..." She breathes out slowly, "Wanted to talk to you."

Silence fills the air for a moment as he chooses his reply, "Did you miss me?"

Kate can practically see the smile through the phone, imagines feeling it under her fingertips, the softness of his lips against the pads of her fingers. She wants to touch him, wishes she could.

"Yes." She answers honestly, her voice flooded with raw emotion that coats the single syllable and almost brings tears to her eyes, because she did, she did miss him, a lot, too much for such a short space of time.

The brutal truth of her words stuns him and she waits, gives him time to let them sink in, wondering if it would be easier if she were saying this in person.

Probably not.

She'd get distracted by his hands, the way he touches her. She'd kiss him.

No, probably not easier in person.

Kate laughs when she hears him gulp, "You want me to lie and say I didn't?" She slides down until she's half sitting, half lying, with her head on the pillow.

"No." He states so vehemently that on either ends of the line they both freeze. "No, never." He says more softly and she hears his chair scrape, the padding of feet, the soft _shuff_ sound she knows is his bedroom door closing.

Her eyebrow quirks.

"So you missed me?" She hears the bed creak and laughs.

"I don't know where you think this conversation is going Castle, but I can assure you..."

"No phone sex tonight?"

"No phone sex tonight." She grins, wide and bright and a little disappointed because phone sex could be-

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow, we have...plans?" She tries not to make it sound like a question, tentative arrangements nothing set in stone, but the idea of cancelling just...catches a nerve, hurts a little unexpectedly.

"Ahh, real sex." He laughs when she splutters.

"Dinner. I'll cook."

"We could go out, you don't have..."

"We can't if we want..."

"Right. Secrets and subterfuge."

Her eyes close and her covers them with the tips of her fingers, "I'm sorry it's just my job and..."

"Kate," He waits, and she falls silent, "I understand, you know I do."

"Yea." Her fingers toy with the comforter, god she does just love him on this stupid teenagery level. The dark twist of excitement low in her abdomen, the giddiness, the-

"So you're gonna cook. _Can_ you cook? Besides breakfast I mean."

-annoying way he interrupts her every thought.

"Yes I can cook." Kate sits back up in bed, defense of her skills forcing her upright as he chuckles down the line.

"It's just, we've only been together three weeks Beckett, I don't want to die of food poisoning before you've shown me all the good stuff."

She splutters through her indignance, "Just for that I'm taking sex off the table tomorrow night Mr. Castle."

"Can we have still have it on the couch?" He laughs, a boyish snicker that is far too infectious and she pouts to keep back her laugh, "In the bed, the shower, aww come on don't tell me you hung up."

"I was thinking," Kate says slowly, making sure he's paying attention, "It could be a-"

"Date?" He asks hopefully, mischievous boyish charm gone, replaced instead by the man she loves.

_Loves_.

Her hand falls over her chest to hold in the frantic beat of her heart, "Yeah, or is that..."

"No, no, I like...we could...I could bring a movie?"

"Yea?" Her body coils itself around the warm feeling radiating through her chest, the eager tone of his voice just exactly what she needed to hear.

"Any requests?"

"John Woo?"

"Really, for date night?"

Date night!

Blood rushes everywhere all at once. High to her cheeks, hot and heavy through her chest, low in memory at the feel of his touch.

Date night.

"The bloodier the better." She grins when he sighs, low and long and so thoroughly contented. It makes her happy, it sets off those stupid butterflies again...

"Oh you are so the woman for me." He hums, talking fast before she can react, "But I get to choose next time."

Next time...and date night and those damn _dancing_ butterflies.

"Staying in is so much the better plan in this situation." He blurts out suddenly.

"Even with sex off the table?"

"I'm choosing to ignore that, a man can live in hope."

"He can." she agrees unable to resist poking him just a little more, "As long as he remembers I sleep with a gun."

"Wouldn't you rather sleep with me?" He challenges and she laughs.

Yes, she really would. Does, has, will again.

"Sex back on the table yet?"

"Ohhh, so close, and then you had to go and open your mouth."

"I thought you liked it when I-"

"So, why is staying in the better option?" Kate asks loudly, rolling her eyes and drowning out his innuendo.

"I'd overthink it."

"A date with me? You'd overthink it." She grins when he hums his agreement. "_Really_? How?"

"I'd be nervous."

"You think I wouldn't be?" It slips out before she has a chance to catch it.

"You would?" He sounds too knowing and delighted at the same time.

"Yes." Kate closes her eyes, her voice barely a whisper as she pictures it in her head, "My hands would be-"

"Clammy."

"Yes and I'd wonder if I chose the right dress."

"You would."

"If you'd bring me flowers."

"Probably, though I'd spend forever choosing them."

"When you arrived to pick me up-"

"In a cab, after spending all day debating if a limo or town car would be too much..."

"I wouldn't know whether or not to-"

"Invite me in-"

"Or-"

"Kiss me."

She laughs, crossing her legs underneath her. Still finishing each others sentences. It's comforting that though so much has a changed -for the better, _scarily _ for the better- some things remain the same.

"You'd kiss me."

Like his arrogance.

Kate shakes her head, scoffing.

He states it with such confidence and in her mind she can see the flare of fire behind his blue eyes, the way the amber flame licks at the iris making her shiver.

"What makes you so sure?"

"You always do."

Her eyes open slowly on the realisation. And she has, every day for the last three weeks when she's opened her front door to find him standing there, she has kissed him.

Pulling him in hard and fast and needy. Hungry for his touch.

Up onto her tiptoes, a gentle brush of her mouth across his cheek in greeting.

Once with the cold lingering taste of strawberry ice cream over her lips, his hand snagging around her waist and pulling her back in for '_another taste_'.

"I would." She agrees softly.

"But we would ride in silence."

"Or make awkward small talk."

"And when we arrived and someone seated us..."

"We would wonder."

"If they knew."

"I couldn't hold your hand. Or kiss your cheek. I couldn't pull your chair out without-"

"Being on guard."

"We couldn't relax." He agrees, "I'd be tugging on my tie and shifting about, you'd get annoyed and we would wonder if all eyes were on us. We wouldn't be ourselves."

"Not ideal for a first date."

"_First_?" He laughs.

"Second?" Kate barely concedes, waiting for him to argue.

He doesn't...not really. He just speaks the truth.

"More like fiftieth but _okay, _ Beckett, whatever you wanna tell yourself." She laughs and he does too, pleased with himself, smirking a little no doubt. "See, staying in is so much better. None of the planning."

"None of the worry."

"None of the nerves and silly gifts and wondering where the night will end."

"Just dinner and a movie and-"

"Me and you." He agrees, sighing again. The noise he makes letting her believe she can do this, she _is _ doing it. Being more, being better.

And she's happy.

He's happy and she loves him.

_Loves._

"Castle, I lo-"

"We should do this more often."

She bites at her lip, lets the words she wants so desperately to say slip away from her again, smiling, "Yeah?"

"I like talking to you, Kate." His words reverberates tenderly down the line, "Hearing your voice."

"Me too." She holds her breath, lets it out slowly, enjoys the slow warm feeling seeping through her blood. "One more thing?"

"Yeah?"

"Sex is back on the table, Castle."

He laughs, "Can't resist my charm huh, Beckett?"

"Shut up." She grins again, into the palm of her hand, hiding the smile away a little, almost saving it for him.

"Until tomorrow, detective"

She thumbs the screen, hits end and drops the phone back on the bed. Her hands rise to her mouth, fingers touching the smile that refuses to leave her face. She loves him.

One finger taps the screen almost absentmindedly.

"I love you." She says out loud, testing the words again, their full weight, implication and meaning leaving her mouth slowly.

They don't sound right without him here...

Maybe tomorrow.

* * *

**3. Buy flowers, buy chocolate. Buy a teddy bear, because that's what every romantic comedy has taught you. Take him out to a nice restaurant where neither of you feel comfortable and spend the whole night clearing your throat...Feel like your actions are more suited to a proposal than the simple confession of something you've always known.**


	4. Chapter 4

Tomorrow comes, but not as she expects.

Tomorrow they fight and she stupidly doesn't want to tell him when they've been fighting. She doesn't want another near death confession, no desperation or agitation built behind her words.

Kate clings to every syllable, as they rest uneasy in her chest, and she holds onto the fact she will say them...she will, just not in the heat of battle.

She's not petty about it, she doesn't withhold the feeling or the sentiment behind it, and, though the words don't leave her lips for the longest time, they ooze from her in every way imaginable.

Tomorrow becomes a week and she tells him, in touch and stroke and simple caress, that she loves him. Their hands twine together and her fingers trace every letter into his skin, her nails rasp it across his back and her muscles clench with it, tight and needful. They release it in wave after wave.

Weeks becomes months and love is kisses, everyday, every kind of kiss they can imagine. Soft, sweet and long. Hard, fervent, sad and indecent, desperate, clinging, gentle, yearning and kind. Whispered brushes of lips against lips, mouth to smiling mouth, to teary eyelid, to cheek, to wrist, to palm.

To skin. To heart. Every kiss explodes with the unsaid words.

At times their kisses don't require lips, or teeth or tongues. Their fingers slide together, palm to palm, heartbeats racing for each other in a covert promise of later. Unwatched and unseen.

Later.

Months in her bed, months in his and every cup of coffee means the same, every quiet good morning and every time their fingers brush.

I love you.

She screams it in silence, her body and his, their hearts a coiled drum that beats the same rhythm

I live you.

I breathe you.

I love love_ love_ you.

I love you.

Their eyes meet.

I love you.

People find out her secret, their friends and family see them for what they truly are. Together. But their bubble doesn't burst, it expands. It's all consuming, all encompassing, it reaches out and draws people in.

It claims them, it brands them and one by one they fall in line. The truth undeniable.

Until she finds herself alone in bed, sobbing, as he lays behind bars. Her heart breaks, shatters and splinters so many times as she waits for him, believes in him, shows him.

Powerless she waits.

She watches him be taken from her, wordless, unable to move, frozen with the fear that she will lose him and it will be her fault, for not acting quickly enough, for not doing her job, for not protecting him.

She opens her mouth to speak as he is led away, the words still trapped, but her eyes bleed it.

I love you. I know who you are.

* * *

Then just as suddenly, in no time at all -that feels like an eternity -he's free.

* * *

Her back is to the headboard and her fingers are frozen in his hair. His bedroom bathed in amber light that spills from the open door.

His chest is lifting in steady, relaxing rolls that press the warmth of his skin against her own where he lays coiled around her, and a tranquil peace has finally settled over them.

His fear and worry shifting in the darkness, turning to memories, slowly slowly, but surely.

He mumbles her name, "I'm here." She says softly, her lips close to his ear, not knowing if it does any good, if there is any use to her actions, if he needs comfort or silence.

Kate breathes out slowly, matching her breath to his, their hearts falling into symmetrical rhythms that soothe and sate her. The pads of her fingers spread through the air over his bicep, before sliding down his forearm to cover his hand. His skin is cold and Kate shivers, but he sleeps on. His mind finally unwinding in the darkness of his bedroom with her fingers drawing idle patterns on his skin.

She wraps her arms around him quietly, fitting into the spaces between them, banishing the gaps and making their broken puzzle pieces _whole_. She skims his back. Her fingertips surging between his shoulder blades, running the length of his spine, feeling the tenseness of muscle and bare skin between her fingers ease and settle at her tender touch.

Or at least she was. She was doing all of those things.

Now, she's staring at him. Her heart leaping against her chest, pressing at his cheek where his head lays. Her ears are straining in the silence, eyes glistening because the last words he mumbled before he drifted off to sleep, they mean so much. So much.

The fingertips of her right hand are resting under his chin, his lips parted, his mouth moving against the pads of her fingers. Hot breath gusting into the crevices as his voice tangles through dreams. Not nightmares, so far he's been spared that at least, but dreams and fantasy flutter the lids of his eyes against her skin.

And Kate lays frozen by the beauty of it.

Him, this man in her arms who whispers he loves her as he tumbles through his own subconscious. "Love you...Kate."

He's only said it once, other words breaking the quiet now and then, but Kate strains her ears to hear him, knowing all the while that if she just -took the deepest breath she has ever taken- said it to him, she would hear it everyday.

Everyday.

"Love." A sentiment, an endearment. Just a word that means the world, slipping between his lips and making her quiver.

Everyday.

She spreads her fingers between his, where they rest at her hip, and drops her forehead to touch her lips to his hair. Inhaling against his skin, she draws in the warmth he offers so freely just by being here and for the first time in days she feels whole, herself once more.

He sleeps on unaware of the turbulent stirrings of her heart. Half of her so relieved to feel him in her arms, sleeping and safe and almost untouched as he manages to distance himself enough to rest. The other half screams 'sleep be damned' she wants to wake him up, roll him over and give up the words to his touch and his taste.

Kate wants to, yearns to, craves it and longs for it and still -after everything they have been through- still it terrifies her. He terrifies her.

This man whose heart beats so loudly, so _strongly_, so proudly, this man who deserves the very best of her, everything she can give, he asks for nothing. He's willing to wait and to hold her hand and it terrifies her.

Her eyes open, fingers and lips moving against his face, in his hair, listening to the breath that leaves him steadily now. The silence between his words has widened and the gaps are full of nothing but her yearning to hear them again.

To say them, those words, back to him, for him. To give them up finally and freely. To embrace the rainbow bright joy and horror and intensity of love that pounds its fists in desperation to escape her chest.

The heavy weight of him against her lulls her through her worry, his breath against her skin draws away the panic and replaces it with inevitability. Kate sighs into the darkness, losing the battle with her tired eyes.

The words play over her tongue, figments, broken fragments that her drifting mind fit together before her eyes close in sleep. "I love you, Castle." She yawns, and his arm curls around her tighter, fingers at her hip tracing lightly before they still and _'Did he hear me?' _ becomes the last thought that floats in her subconscious.

* * *

_**4. Whisper it into his hair in the middle of the night, after you've counted the space between his breaths and are certain he's asleep. Shut your eyes quickly when he shifts toward you, maybe you were just sleep whispering...**_


	5. Chapter 5

If he heard her, he never says, never tells and never mentions it. The holidays come and go and before she knows it the New Year is upon them, bright and shiny and full of unending possibility. Wrapped up in it all is Castle and this thrilling spark that runs through her. She_ loves_ him.

He's made her want things.

She's not sure how long ago that happened, but she knew when she started acting on it that _they _ were serious. They were _it_ for her.

He made her want things.

And not just _want _ them, strive for them, seek them out and claim them. He made her choose to change to be able to have the things she desired. Like Christmas and family, having fun in the snow and a sense of normality. Even _his _ normality, which was just a whole other heap of crazy mixed through with tradition and being together. He made her want it, crave it even.

He made her want things like kisses over coffee, like sharing toast and tangling your fingers in each others pockets to warm them up.

Like movie nights and dates and...

_"Are you picking up the wine or am I?"_

_"Have you moved my keys?"_

_"Don't look at me in that tone of voice."_

He gave her the big things like gestures of loyalty and romance, like respecting her and waiting for her and believing in her, but he made her yearn for the tiniest seemingly insignificant parts she never knew she wanted, the parts of being _them_ she barely knew existed.

Silly things and coupley things, all the mundane in between things. The bits and pieces that fall into the gaps in conversation, the silence found in the other breathing, the cement of a relationship pressed between the bricks of this _thing _ they were building.

Like sharing drawer space, she smiles, and the look in his eyes when she gave it to him, that small place in her home all his. And her heart, all his.

Their coats next to each other in the closet, their shoes in a weirdly symmetrical line that both of them swear they had no hand in, yet it happens every time. Every single time.

Her head on his shoulder as she dozes off watching T.V.

The fact she can do what she does now, crawl out of his bed with nothing to wear and root through his clothes until she finds a pristine white shirt, that smells like him and fresh air, and she can shrug it into place and barely button it yet still feel content to wander through his house. It takes her by surprise, but in the best way.

He makes her want to meander through his office and slip out of the door in silence, creep up behind him in his kitchen and run her hands over the warmth of his skin. To watch the way he gyrates the firm curve of his ass to whatever silly music he has playing softly in the background, the broad sweep of his shoulders and elbows flung about as he shimmies and hits the pan with the spatula in time to the drum beat.

He makes her want to do something about that little squeak of surprise when she drops silently behind him, darts out her tongue and presses it at his shoulder blade.

But he's cooking her breakfast and that makes her want other things, scarily locked down, domestic, family things that she will tackle later, once she's gotten past this, and of course that little squeak still requires her attention.

He clangs something loudly when she squeezes the meaty flesh at his sides and slips her hand under the elastic of his boxers, letting out this little yip of surprise that would have her laughing if he wasn't instantly reaching around behind him to draw her closer, holding her against him, the food forgotten.

Turning her in his arms he opens his hands, large and warm against the soft white cotton and he sweeps them slowly up her back making her whole body shiver and her eyes flutter shut. Palms cupping at her elbow, his lips touch the soft curve of her neck and kiss slowly, softly, open mouthed and wet.

He finds her lips and makes her want a lot of things. But mostly him, mainly _him_.

His warmth and his touch and the way he curls around just right. Gentle but commanding with one hand at her hip, thumb circling rhythmically, his knee nudging between her own so he can crowd in close and invade her space. Invade her senses and her heart until she can feel, smell, taste and hear nothing but him, he surrounds her and consumes her, whispering touches across her skin as he devours her, touching and feeling nothing but him.

Her heart, _all_ his.

His mouth opens at her jaw, broad chest perfectly in reach, for more touching, more tasting, and he lifts his tongue to skim her bottom lip growling out this noise that makes her want to lose the shirt and the boxers and maybe a little hygiene awareness when he hoists her up onto the countertop and does ungodly things with the batter.

But he's already started making her breakfast and that makes her want to let him, makes her want to watch him and touch him and tease him as he does. She wants to observe everything he does, be a part of it, now she can.

"Don't start something you can't finish." Kate warns, twisting away from him with a devilish smile, pointing at the food. "And don't burn my breakfast, Castle."

She's all talk, her voice giving her away, cracking when she hops up onto his counter, crossing her legs at the ankle. But she's smiling behind her fingers when his eyes follow the long fluid line from thigh to toe with an appreciative nod of his head.

"Wouldn't dream of it." But he dreams of other things and his eyes linger, dark and hungry, letting her know she makes him want things too. One very specific thing becoming evident thanks to the way his boxers cling and his eyes simmer heatedly over the long open vee that falls from her neck. "Nice shirt."

She hums in agreement, swinging her feet. "I _love_ this shirt."

"That's_ my _ shirt." He challenges, casting an almost possessive eye over both her and the stolen clothing. Like he wants to steal it back, steal her out of it and there are far too many shirts in this conversation given that he's not wearing one and she's wearing nothing but...

"I love _you _ in this shirt." She throws it out there haphazardly reaching for a piece of fruit from the bowl he's got set up next to him, and it's only because he turns so very slowly to stare at her that she even pauses to think about what she just said.

Then it sinks in, permeates and...

She freezes, fruit poised before her lips and a weird ripple rolling through her body, her eyes blinking. It's not panic, not even close, in fact it's not even the words.

It's the way they both burn with it, how it crackles between them. How his eyes shine, how her body seems to come alive with it.

Then just as suddenly it's gone and the world is still spinning and he's looking at her with wide doe eyes in almost ethereal blue. The challenge still bright there in the pupils the intensity no less. The quirk of his lips fighting the smirk and she gives it back. Every little bit of it. He makes her want things like this...this _whatever _ it is and what comes next.

"Just in that shirt, huh?" He flips the spatula, pancakes of course, and tilts his head waiting.

"No," She feels bolder, the world didn't end, they are fine and it's completely true, she does love him in this shirt. The white set off with a dark blue tie or unbuttoned just so when he steps out of the shower and throws it on quickly.

"No." She says again, "I love this shirt _off _ of you too." She snickers at the way his mouth parts, opens and closes in surprise, "I love when you take it off and toss it over your shoulder."

She's deliberately ignoring it now, dancing around it and choosing her words carefully. He turns up the heat and hums, holding her eyes. He knows.

"I love the feel of it under my fingers." She can't stop herself, he makes her want to be touching the hem of the shirt. So she does, her fingers tracing in memory of the last time he wore it and how she peeled it from him so very slowly, lips and teeth and tongue and the white hot heat of her splayed palms gathering the material away from his chest.

Sweat clinging to his skin.

"I love how it smells." She breathes out, the words drifting from her lips, inhaling deeply and giving herself over to it as she closes her eyes.

They dart open again and she grins at him, "I love that _I_ get to wear it as _you _ make _me _ breakfast." She extends her foot, pokes the cheek of his backside with her toe in warning, "_Don't_ burn it."

"Wouldn't dare." He smiles over his shoulder at her, reaching out to catch her foot before she can draw it back. He turns off the flame and slides his fingers over her ankle, starting an inferno.

She pouts and groans, her eyes longingly drawn to the promise of food even as the raging flames lick their way up her legs with the pads of his fingers.

"I'll feed you later." He promises, hands on both ankles now as he spreads her legs wider and steps between them. The two meager buttons holding the shirt together pop apart and her body leaps forwards, bare skin seeking him out.

"Later?" She challenges again. Always a challenge, a banter, a battle flowing between them, a dance that sways them to and fro, in time with the music and each other.

His palms are scorching, hot and searing her skin. Branding her as they reach her calves, pressing her knees apart when her back arches and her chest heaves. The shirt slides past her shoulders and he noses it further down, kissing his way back up her arm, her clavicles laved with his tongue before he begins licking the graceful line of her throat.

"_After_." He growls at her ear, and she shudders with it, head to toe, he makes her want.

_Want._

Want so many things when his mouth opens and he takes the lobe of her ear deep into the intoxicating heat, moist and rough, the pad of his tongue sliding when he starts to suck.

"I love..." The gasp of words tumble across his skin, her nails sharp as they scrape under his ribs, rising high on his back, "_After_." She laughs, breathless when his fingers graze her thighs, and taken over by it when he pulls her closer.

Nothing between them anymore.

No cloth as he kicks aside his underwear. No space, none, he drives it all away with the heat and the delicious, forceful invasion of his body.

No secrets, because he knows.

He knows and the dance of his mouth over her skin and the play of his fingers make it clear.

He knows.

He _knows._

Not out loud, vocally or verbally, but _inside_ where it burns like blistering fever, where it strikes like flint and sparks vivid and bright. Deep down inside where it counts, he knows.

Somehow they have taken another step without meaning to, perfectly timed and their mouths meet on a groan, because he makes her want things and she loves him and he knows.

* * *

**_5. Blurt it out in the middle of an impromptu dance party in the kitchen, as clumsy as your two left feet. When time seems to freeze, hastily tack on "in that shirt" or "when you make your award-winning meatballs" or, if you are feeling particularly brave, "when we do this." Resume dancing and pretend you don't feel her eyes on you the rest of the night._**


	6. Chapter 6

Martha hangs up the phone and nods and Kate drops into the seat.

"Thank god."

It hurts how much she loves him, how much she wishes he had taken her with him to Paris. He's safe now, Alexis is safe, but it hurts.

She picks the pen back up, stupid really, whatever she writes here will be shredded or thrown away but it helps. For a few brief moments it helps.

When she first started she did it to feel closer to him, the writer, somehow the idea of pouring her heart out in a letter felt...fitting. It gave her something to do as she waited, as she worried and the image of his fingers cradling the slim body of the fountain pen gave her a comfort she hadn't expected. Kate had imagined the nimble way he would scratch the nib across the paper, ink on his fingertips, the very act of writing itself, all of it, intimate and him and she wanted that connection, though he was in another country it made her feel close to him.

She hadn't been able to call and the words flowing from her had cleared her head as she waited for any scrap of information.

She didn't start with Hi or Dearest Castle, it wasn't addressed or dated and set out neatly. It was a great rambling _mess_ of emotion on the page. It was the bleeding of a heart that continued to weep, it was the love she hadn't said out loud, it was every word she had ever wanted to express. And it was messy and scribbled and painful.

It helped.

* * *

_Time is moving so slowly waiting for you to come home. I miss you and I love you._

_I watched you go through something horrific, one of the worst pains a parent can experience. Your daughter was missing and I was powerless to save you from it. I feel useless and I'm so sorry, but I love you._

_You tried to keep your distance at work, putting me first as your world crumbled. How can you be so selfless?_

_I watched the despair set in, as each new lead came back with nothing, everywhere we turned dead ends and I couldn't help reaching for you. If the only things I could give you were my touch, if it's just my shoulder to lean on or my hand to hold, then I would give it gladly. I don't care where we are._

_Because I love you, Castle._

_You warned me not to hold you in the precinct, how do you think of me at a time like this?_

_You warned me, but your arms wrapped around me tight and your chest thudded into mine telling me that it helps, that it gives you some small level of comfort. I think it did, I hope it did._

_I'm glad I could do that for you, because you've always done that for me, been that person for me and when I say I don't care, I mean it. Let Gates see, let the world see. Your daughter was missing and the least I could do, the very very least, is support you, hold you through it._

_My heart breaks for you, with love for you that I want to blurt out but I know now is not the time, you know surely, some small part of you must know and I cling to that hoping it will help you somehow._

_You told me not to make promises I couldn't keep because you would never forgive me and it breaks my heart, almost as much I could hear it breaking yours when you tried not to cry, talking to me on the phone._

_I should have been able to do this for you Castle, I'm the person who should be able to turn to you and say "I will fix this, I will find her. I will bring her home."_

_It's why I do what I do. Give answers to families when they need them the most. And now my family needs them and I can do nothing. Because you are my family and I love you. You and your daughter and your mother, the boys, we are united in this Castle, all of us, all of us are behind you and I love you and I cling to that now because I am stuck here waiting for you and and I can't do a damn thing about it._

* * *

She catches the tears before they hit the paper, wiping them away so her bleary eyes can re-reads what she has written. Kate stares down, her shoulders hunched and shuddering, reading the lines, still trying to make sense of her own feelings.

Martha comes up behind her,squeezes her shoulder and grins, her whole face lighting up. Her eyes brighter than Kate has seen them in days.

"Won't be long." She pats the banner on the table, "Will you help me with this?"

"Of course." Kate tries to push herself up out of the chair but her legs feel rubbery. She closes her eyes in relief when the phone rings again.

Martha skips off to answer it calling over her shoulder, "In a minute."

It's them, she can tell by Martha's happy laugh, and the way she twirls and waves before darting into the kitchen and checking the fridge.

Kate sinks back down, running her hand across her forehead and pushing away the urge to sob, they will be here soon, they are on their way home from the airport right now and she almost tears the letter to shreds then and there, but some small part of her just needs to finish it.

* * *

_I want to hate you right now, Castle. I really want to, it would make being here alone so much easier, but I can't, I love you._

_You left me here. WHY? Why did you do that?_

_I know why you did, I know the logic and the reason of it, I know that you thought this was the only way, that you left to save your daughter. But I would have helped._

_Why didn't you let me?_

_Why didn't you even tell me you were leaving? Did you think I'd stop you, that I wouldn't have been sitting right next to you on that plane when it took off, if you had just given me the chance._

_Did you only want to have to worry about one person, not two? Did you think me being a cop would slow you down, hold you up if you had to do something illegal?_

_I compromised my ethics for you, for Alexis, and I would do it again. I kicked a woman out of her chair and threatened her, I took away her rights and I scared her to help you and I would do it again. I let you unleash some dark and scary part of yourself on another human being to help us find Alexis and I would do it again. Every time._

_Every time._

_You're both safe now, without me, you saved the day without me and I hate that I couldn't be there to help you but I'm so grateful that it turned out this way. That you're both alive and safe._

_I won't believe it until I see you with my own eyes._

_You'll be home soon, you're in the same country again and I feel better, like I know you're nearer than before and when you get here I will be able to tell you, to show you. To hug your daughter because I missed her too._

_You worried me to death these last few days and is this what it's like for you? Is this how you feel? Is it this hard every single second, being a parent, being in love and being terrified?_

_I wouldn't trade it if it was because I love you._

_You'll be home soon and I plan on showing you, telling you._

_I love you, Castle._

* * *

She scrunches the letter into a ball and shoves it into her coat pocket, she can throw it away later, right now they have more important things to worry about.

They get the banner up with barely seconds to spare, Kate smiles and squeezes Martha back when she feels the woman's arm slip around her waist.

Her eyes sparkle with relief. "Any minute." She squeezes again and releases Kate, dropping down onto the couch. Kate lowers herself onto the arm and they both let out a sigh, all they have to do now is wait.

But this time it's not for very long.

The door opens widely and everything becomes squeals and hugs as Martha flies at her granddaughter. Kate rises slowly, letting herself drink him in.

He really is home.

Then her legs are propelling her into his arms and she all but collapses into him, her mouth at his neck, holding him tight. She breaths him in, her voice barely a whisper because she's not sure she can talk at all now.

"I'm _so _ glad you're ok."

Ok, home. Alive.

I love you. She squeezes it into him with the tips of her fingers.

She pulls back to look at him, her eyes wide and her hands refusing to let him go, "Please don't do anything like that again without me."

Because I love you.

She leans in, looks up into his eyes, looks deeply, deeply into him, as deep as she can, pressing the meaning of her words into him with the force of her gaze, the sharpness of her fingers as they cling to him. She prays he understands what she means.

That she can't do this alone, that she needs to be with him if -

He smiles, tired, exhausted and _here_, his voice low and tender, "I won't."

He does get it. God, she loves him so much, him and his family and they are all safe.

She smiles back, can't contain it any longer, and she cradles his face in the palm of her hands and kisses him quick. Pressing just a light dab of the love that is cascading from her heart into his lips before she leaves him to the waiting arms of his mother.

She spins and hugs his daughter, cradles the girls head to her shoulder then squeezes her so tight, maybe too tight, but she smiles with utter, gut wrenching relief. Finally.

She loves him, them, all of them, so much.

And they're safe.

* * *

**6.** Write him a letter in which the amount of circumnavigating and angst could rival Mr. Darcy's. Debate where to leave it all day – on his pillow? In his coat pocket? Throw it away in frustration.


	7. Chapter 7

Somehow they grow closer. She didn't expect that, that their strange connection could develop into something more, because it already was the most wondrous thing.

It's grating and frustrating that some days he knows her so well he will just slide a cup towards her in silence, no coffee, just tea because she happened to mumble something and clear her throat and wonder aloud to herself if she was getting a cold. But he knows and he observes and he loves in the simplest ways. So some days he makes her tea and doesn't say a word.

She has a key now. He has one too and they weren't given in overly romantic ways, it was more out of coupley practicality and she loves that, that it was simple and almost unspoken. There was no secret misconstruable box hidden away in his bedside drawer, no elaborate scheme to ask each other to exchange. It was just the everyday relationship necessity of, "I might be home late so here, let yourself in." and "This way I won't have to wait up for you and you can just join me in bed."

So, that's what she did this morning, god, just a few short hours ago. She left work, drove home and made her way to his door, dead on her feet. She knew he had been writing and she slunk through his office half expecting him to be at the desk, but he wasn't and the lights were dimmed.

She found him in bed, sound asleep, one open palm resting on her pillow like he was waiting for her and with weariness overwhelming her she changed fast, climbed in beside him and savoured the fact they could do this now, end the day together even if they had spent it apart.

That was only this morning and it seems like years ago, decades even as she stands here now, silent and unmoving. Only this morning and now everything is about to change.

Her heart is pounding, it attacks her ribs and her chest with such ferocity that she struggles to breathe, to keep up with the frantic beat and he's leaving, he's actually leaving the room. Castle is listening for once and yes, maybe she does have a thing for his ears and rehashing all their previous encounters - all the times when she needed an excuse to touch him - has brought that into the light but now, _now _ he's actually using his ears and_ listening_ to her.

He's leaving.

They have survived so much, overcome so many things together and grown that much closer, she didn't think it would end like this

It takes her by surprise how selfishly she wants to call out his name and just beg him to stay, how much she wants to keep him here even as she's begging him to leave. She wants him to stay so she can have him with her. She wants to hold his hand.

She won't do it, of course she won't. Maybe she's selfish, she thinks she has been in the past, but she's not _that_ selfish and she's not insane.

Her cheeks are wet with tears and she just wants him here by her side, in fact anywhere where she is, always. She wants to ask, she won't but her heart aches with the possibility.

She can feel it in her fingers, the barest shake of pent up emotion that could end her life. Her feet twitch and she wants to move, wants to run after him and feel him in her arms and just say it, let it all out, set it free.

God, it's like a rocket waiting to go off in her chest, it is the bomb underneath her feet. The force of her feelings could erase her very existence with their intensity. She loves him, so much, so so much.

She wants to touch him and tell him but he turns away with the saddest smile and no matter what, no matter what else she ever imagined this moment to be, more than anything she didn't want _this_.

No life or death confessions.

But at least there will be no angry heart ache or screaming and sobbing, no crying in desperation.

In her mind this moment was always destined to be quiet. A simple chapter in the story of them, significant in its insignificance. Beautiful in the way it blended into the everyday of their lives. Like watercolors, the tones and hues of her love for him would wash over everything, the colors bleeding into each other, her words honest and true. Her words, _just_ her words and his belief in them once and for all.

She shudders through another breath, her eyes well with tears and she will not let them fall, this is not a sad thing, her love for Castle is not and has never been a thing to mourn. There is no tragedy in her feelings and she meant every word of what she said to him.

NO regrets.

Not a single one. And if this is how it ends, if barely a year to love him is all she gets, then every minute was worth it because loving him, letting herself _be _ loved by him, it has been remarkable and maddening, challenging and extraordinary. It has been _magical_.

And there is no way, no way on earth she's leaving it unsaid. Screw her plans, damn simplicity, they have never ever been easy. They are, by definition, unconventional and she needs him to know when she's gone how very very much he meant to her, how much joy he brought into her life.

There is no sorrow in her love for him.

His steps are slow and he's almost to the counter, closing her eyes for the briefest second Kate allows herself to be open, the light of them flooding the darkness within. His love and his warmth drench every particle and cell, the memory of his touch on her skin sparking new and familiar all at once.

A single spark and it's enough, it has always been more than enough.

_Always_.

"Rick."

He turns and the tears slide down her cheeks.

"I love you."

Oh, he smiles and her heart it explodes in her chest, it must because this great wave of heat and fire and light and color rises up from the very depths of her being. It cascades and it cools, it calms and it ripples outwards. It consumes her.

"I love you too." He smiles and the words just breeze out of him, like breath, like life, like everything she has every imagined them to be.

They share a beat of silence, just them and their words bouncing back and forth. He smiles and it is the most beautiful thing, she can make peace with it now because he knows, he sees and now finally _finally _ he _hears _ how she loves him. The truth and the strength of it in her voice.

She wants to say it again, a thousand times, she wants to say it for every second of the life that is ticking away from her, she wants it to be the words on her lips at the very end. She wants to say it again and again and again.

And then he's gone, just as she asked, and she stands silently in the room, her life ticking away slowly, beneath her feet. She stands still and closes her eyes, letting every memory of them march through her mind, every annoyance, every kiss, touch and caress, everything, everything.

She lifts her face, as if lifting it to the sun and whispers the words again, letting it flood through her, the essence of them dancing through her blood. "I love you."

* * *

**7.** Wait until something terrible has happened and you can't not tell him anymore, realize you are terrified of living without him. Tell him with your hands shaking.


	8. Chapter 8

He's still sleeping when she finds the shirt. It's not really thought out or planned but it has to be the white shirt, with the buttons done up half way, and she runs her hands through her hair. It's still finger mussed from the night before and she pulls at the snarls and untangles the snags, fluffs it a bit and oh, god she has to stop it. Stop the incessant grinning and happy bubbling glee that is dancing through her stomach, stop listening to the part of her so thoroughly wrapped up in her love for him that she's fluffing her hair before sneaking out of his bedroom.

Coffee, she needs coffee because it's them and it's fitting. It's the most perfect thing in the world right now, the taste as the bitter blend coalesces with the sweet sugar and gives way silently to the silky cream. The collaboration of two things, dark and light, mixed together and working so well. Them, all over it's just _them_ and everything, perfectly everything.

Ugh really, she _has_ to stop it.

But they survived yet again, they are here and stronger and she spent another day in his bed following a disaster and now, now they get to be what she wants them to be. She gets to be who she wants to be, this day at least, she smiles, she can be the woman happily in love and owning every ounce of the emotion that comes with it.

She pours in a little of the cream, lets the color change and drift into something mellow and lovely, burnt umber or raw sienna, melted chocolate. Just simply the drink he brings everyday to see her smile.

But her smiles come so much more freely, he doesn't really have to earn them, tease them from her, cajole or steal them and he can come empty handed from now on because she loves him. Just him.

She hums her way through stirring, letting the heat from the mugs settle into her fingertips and the warmth she feels in her chest radiate out until they meet somewhere in the middle and she smiles. See, so much freer, so much lighter and he's not even here and that smile is for him. He can come empty handed because she loves him.

But it's their good morning and the everyday kissing of their fingertips, it's routine and familiarity. It's a truth all it's own. She smiles again or a new smile replaces the one before it, so much freer and she taps the spoon against his mug in that way that he absolutely hates and she laughs. A silly little bubbling sound and maybe she should stop it, maybe, but, as she laughs again and picks up the mugs, Kate realises she really really doesn't want to.

* * *

He's all rumpled when she slips back into his bedroom, her feet barely a whisper on the wooden floor and she pauses to stare at him, her heart pounding and her breath catching. He's draped over a pillow, half way over on her side of the bed, typical, and his hair is a mess, a straggly adorable mess that she has to touch.

Kate sets both cups on the dresser by his head, letting the aroma of them, the perfume of their love seep into the room around him. The very essence of it pulling him slowly from sleep.

She drops down onto the bed at his side, her hands opening, fingers splaying and she touches his scalp, the pads of her fingers slipping through the soft strands of hair until they find warmth and skin, until she whispers his name.

"Castle, wake up."

She's giddy with it all.

"I love you, wake up."

His eyes open so slowly and he groans, mumbles something that sounds like "woman" under his breath and she laughs.

So much lighter, so much freer and so very happy to be in love with this man.

His nose twitches when he catches the scent and she has to kiss it, him, all of him. Her mouth parts as she curls over him, her body blanketing his and when her lips press lightly to the tip of nose his eyes open. Beautiful and blue and thoroughly confused.

"I love you." She grins, stealing a kiss before he can answer her, her knee presses to his thigh and she straddles him, pushes him from his position to exactly where she wants him, where she can get at him.

His mouth opens and screw morning breath, forget the fact she hasn't brushed her teeth yet, and remembering how lovely it is that she's completely naked under his barely buttoned shirt, she dives in and kisses him for all she's worth. Laughing and smiling when her lips leave his skin, she delights in the groan that escapes him and trickles over her tongue.

She tugs aside the sheet and loses the shirt, falling back into his waiting arms as he watches her in wonder.

He's awake now and the words leap from her time and again, "I love you."

* * *

She bumps his hip when they brush their teeth, his towel is loose at his waist and her fingers curl over the fluffy edge and make him gasp when she pinches him. Handfuls of delicious warm Castle flesh all waiting for her touch. She skims his back, rises onto her toes, ditches the tooth brush and kisses his shoulder.

She drops her chin onto his arm and catches his eyes in the mirror. "Hey."

He grins, his own tooth brush protruding between his lips and toothpaste white and kind of gross at the edge of his mouth. "Heeey."

She smiles at him, tugs the towel a little, "I love you."

* * *

They get dressed, stupid idea seriously, and she is starving. Not just for him now, for actual sustenance, something to fuel the raging fire. She's foraging through his fridge when his arms wrap around her from behind, lifting her back so she lets out a little squeal of surprise, his lips find her cheek and the sound she makes takes a drastic turn.

He laughs and it's rich against her skin, he calls her insatiable, something else too but it's muffled by her tongue and he's gloating about that even as she backs him up against the kitchen counter.

They lose the clothes, they really were a stupid idea to begin with, and her mouth parts at his ear, the feel of him holding her drawing the words on a heated breath from her lips, "I love you."

He makes dinner, something nourishing and filling that smells delicious. Something quick too because she can't keep her hands off of him. Can't stop touching and whispering the words, making up for lost time, the entirety of a years worth of love crammed into a day and she's giddy with it.

Kate likes the way it rushes through her, lifting her onto her toes until she's bouncing with it, skipping almost in time to the beat of her heart, chasing after him and making him gulp. She makes him jump and squeal in surprise and laugh, she makes him sigh and stutter.

Every time she says it, "I love you." She makes him feel_ loved_.

* * *

"Stop it." He says quietly, catching her wrist and pulling back as she walks away from him having just whispered it in his ear.

She turns confused, maybe a little hurt too and her eyes dart to meet his, worrying she's gone about this all wrong, but she wants him to know, needs him to understand. She finds his eyes crinkled at the corners, the upturn of his smiling mouth a wonderful surprise and she curls her body into his, feigning innocence. "Stop what?"

"Stop acting like I don't know." He slides a hands into her hair. Four long fingers drifting through the strands as his thumb settles over her cheek, sweeping under her lashes and holding her steady when he looks down. "I knew almost a year ago, Kate." His smile is tender and his fingers tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear then slip down to cup her cheek, until both hands are framing her face, "You left me a message."

The voicemail.

She blanches, her hands tight in his shirt, remembering the agony of almost losing him, of needing the burn of alcohol to find the courage to tell him. She remembers the cold water and the desperate way the words bubbled up out of her, she almost feels ashamed, "You…you heard that?"

He nods, pressing his lips to the lines of worry over her brow, "I did."

"And you never…"

He shakes his head and it dawns slowly, her realisation rising from inside, he knew and he gave her time, maybe he even drew hope from her drunken confession and she clings tighter to him, beautiful wonderful man.

God, she loves him.

"I felt the whisper of it the first night you came here, dripping wet and shivering." He smiles as the blood rushes to her cheeks, heated skin pressing against the warmth of his palms, his touch scorching and soothing at the same time, "I have felt it in every touch, every caress." She lifts into her toes, desperate to get closer, the feel of his words sweeping across her skin with every breath. "I heard it in your voice when you couldn't say it and I have seen it in your eyes every day, Kate. Everyday."

She presses her forehead to his, letting his words sink in, rush inside and fill in all those little insecure gaps and cracks that had her wondering and worrying if she could ever love him the way he loves her, the way he deserves to be loved.

"You say it in so many ways, Kate." Their noses brush as he speaks, lips skimming each other in a vocal kiss so perfect and right and gentle in the moment that she thinks her hands might be shaking with the intensity of it, or his are when they glance across her face once more.

She holds onto him tighter, listening.

"I heard you the night I came home from jail. I heard every time you would whisper it before you fell asleep. I heard it every time you said it without actually saying it." He smiles and she laughs, groaning against him.

Damn him for reading her so well, for knowing her tells and her secrets. For knowing her.

"I read it in your letter."

Her eyes open in shock, "You read it?"

He soothes her softly, easing away her fear, "Every beautiful, _agonising _ word."

Her eyes question, fingers pressing for answers and his cheeks grow steadily pink. She fights the smirk.

"You left it in your pocket, I was -"

"Snooping." No accusation, just love.

"Hanging up your coat. You breeze in and throw things and make a mess, I was tidying." He bristles, almost smiling back at her as he relishes her quirks and foibles.

"Like an old woman." She teases, her eyes flashing dangerously, sweeping her fingertip over his lower lip. He can know her secrets, he can keep them, she doesn't mind anymore, in fact she quite likes it.

He shrugs, "I knew a long time before that voice mail though."

She raises an eyebrow, senses the tone, "You… but I didn't even…how?"

"Eh." He grins smugly, hands banding around her waist, cinching tight and perfect as he pulls her into him hard, "I always knew you thought I was rugged -"

He leaves his sentence open for her to finish just for the sake of it, for familiarity and for the fact it's them and she loves him, he waits.

"And handsome." She hums, giving in quickly and giggling when he preens.

"Makes you want me, right?"

She laughs loudly then, she can't deny it but she can smack him in the shoulder. She squirms closer, holds onto him for a few heartbeats of happiness before she tilts her head, looks up and lets him see it all. Absolutely everything she has to give him and her laughter falls away. Her true smile appearing slowly, catching the light, drawing him in and everything that was and ever could be just _drifts _ into insignificance.

Kate surges up onto her toes, feathers her lips over his as she breathes into him, "I don't just _want_ you, Castle. I _love_ you."

Truth in all its glory.

Beautiful, simple, hard and harsh. It pounds through her heart, blazes through her blood, thunders in her ears. It is soft like silk in her touch and she tells him in every way she can think of, every way she can imagine.

She lets him see the idea of their future glisten in her eyes, all the ways she'll say 'I love you' yet to come, and he gasps. He catches her kiss and whispers her name, caressing the words as they leap from his tongue so that she lights up all over again, "Kate. I love you too."

* * *

**8.** Say it deliberately, your tongue a springboard for every syllable. Over coffee, brushing your teeth side-by-side, as you turn off the light to go to sleep – it doesn't matter where. Do not adorn it with extra words like "I think" or "I might." Do not sigh heavily as if admitting it were a burden instead of the most joyous thing you've ever done. Look him in the eyes and pray, heart thumping wildly, that he will turn to you and say, "I love you too."

* * *

**The End**

* * *

**A/N:**

Hitting the complete button always gives me a little pang of sadness but I have loved every minute of this story, thank you for reading and reviewing, alerting and messaging, it always makes my day just that bit better :D

With special thanks, this story is dedicated to the wonderful, kind and effervescent LoveJessieLou for the original prompt and for a million other things since. I hope I did it justice lovely!


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